


Bloody Harvest

by Mayblume



Category: Naruto
Genre: Akatsuki Gift Exchange 2018, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Royalty, M/M, Revolution, copious amounts of blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-25 17:53:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17126030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mayblume/pseuds/Mayblume
Summary: The rebel army poured into the courtyard of his castle like blood from a gaping wound: slow at first, but swiftly gaining momentum and progressively filling the space between murdered guardsmen. It was not long before the colour red occupied every corner of the yard, crimson fabric of the revolutionaries indistinguishable from the pools of gore they were standing in. Or maybe it just seemed this way from the vantage point of a king, far above the blood-soaked courtyard.With a sigh, Kakuzu stepped back from the window, not bothering to close it. Seldom in his life had he been confronted with his mistakes so clearly, undeniably, and inescapably. Despite the prolonged bad harvests, he had refused to lower taxes. Raised them, even, in his blind pursuit of greed. Fanaticism had not been long in the coming and a burgundy wave of blind rage had washed over the lands. Now its crest has reached the doors of his castle and was soon to drown him in his bedchambers.





	Bloody Harvest

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pink_amaterasu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pink_amaterasu/gifts).



The rebel army poured into the courtyard of his castle like blood from a gaping wound: slow at first, but swiftly gaining momentum and progressively filling the space between murdered guardsmen. It was not long before the colour red occupied every corner of the yard, crimson fabric of the revolutionaries indistinguishable from the pools of gore they were standing in. Or maybe it just seemed this way from the vantage point of a king, far above the blood-soaked courtyard.

A spot of blue caught his eye – the hair of a woman, standing out sharply against the sea of red around her. With an air of aloofness that was tangible even from a distance, she commandeered the battlefield with absolute certainty. 

This was the brilliant tactician of the Jashinist revolution that his spies had warned him about; her otherworldly beauty had led many men to underestimate her abilities in a fight, all before they had been reaped by this woman – the angel of Jashin. 

With a sigh, Kakuzu stepped back from the window, not bothering to close it. Seldom in his life had he been confronted with his mistakes so clearly, undeniably, and inescapably. Despite the prolonged bad harvests, he had refused to lower taxes. Raised them, even, in his blind pursuit of greed. Fanaticism had not been long in the coming and a burgundy wave of blind rage had washed over the lands. Now its crest has reached the doors of his castle and was soon to drown him in his bedchambers. 

It did not take long for the noises of battle to arrive outside of his room, but the commotion died down far quicker than Kakuzu would have preferred. He had placed some of his best men to guard his chambers, after all: The thought that they had fallen so quickly sparked irritation inside of him. 

The doors burst open and the leader of the revolution appeared in the threshold. He had lost his shirt in a previous fight, or had not worn one to begin with, but his white skin was covered in red nonetheless. While he had been fighting his way up here, the blood he had spilled earlier had dried on his skin, caking him in gore. Splatters of fresh blood speckled his face, the three glinting blades of his scythe towering above him, blood made corporeal. He had come to reap a bloody harvest and the yield had been bountiful. 

Kakuzu had to admit that he was a sight to behold. Looking at him, the king found it not hard to see why he had become the herald of the revolution, a messenger of Jashin, sparking violence and bloodlust in his followers and leaving nothing but death and destruction in his wake. Had Kakuzu not been such a firm non-believer, he would have called him a vision before the gods. 

“I am Hidan, loyal servant of our only Lord Jashin, and today, I will reap you in his name!” 

He pointed at Kakuzu during his proclamation and raised his scythe, readying to attack. 

Kakuzu did appreciate the irony of the leader of a rebellion caused by a scanty harvest fighting with a scythe. What else was he to do with it? Maybe this weapon was the origin of an expression favoured among the rebellion – “If we can’t harvest crops, we’ll harvest lives!”

But the huge scythe also slowed him down, allowing Kakuzu to lunge forward and to bury a dagger in his chest. Hidan stumbled backwards, surprised, when the thrust knocked the air out of his lungs, though he did not collapse as Kakuzu had anticipated. Instead he began to laugh.

Kakuzu’s eyes widened in surprise and an involuntary sound of admiration slipped past his lips. He had not thought it possible. Of course he had heard rumours about the immortal reaper, but he had taken them for hyperbole, a deluded aggrandizement of the desperate masses, just as Jashin’s Angel was not an actual angel. 

His opponent took advantage of his moment of utter bewilderment and in turn buried his scythe in Kakuzu’s chest. The king released his grip on the hilt of the dagger and fell to his hands and knees, coughing and heaving violently. 

Assuming him to be in the throes of death, the herald of Jashin watched on, a self-satisfied smirk plastered across his striking face. But Kakuzu did not gasp for his last breath, he rather retched up a dark, writhing mass that turned into a puddle upon hitting the ground. 

As the king righted himself, Hidan inhaled sharply. Now it was his turn to stare in shock. His scythe had clearly punctured the heart and never before had one of his enemies stood back up after he had struck them down. 

Kakuzu pulled the scythe out of his chest and let it clatter to the ground without a second glance. Awestruck, Hidan had not moved an inch, and remained frozen as Kakuzu lifted him up by the neck, bringing their faces close. 

“You probably heard myths about me, that I’m so greedy that I devour everything, even human hearts.”

For the first time this day, Kakuzu allowed himself to smile. It tucked precariously at the seams of his mouth, enticing them to come loose and unveil their horrors to the world. 

“Those were not myths.” 

The king expected to see fear in his opponent’s eyes, but to no avail. On the contrary, Hidan seemed – excited? Delighted, even. Kakauzu’s eyes narrowed in confusion as the other man levelled his gaze and held it defiantly.

The sound of an explosion disrupted their silent duel and he let the revolutionary fall to the ground. Soldiers rushed into his bedchambers. The trap had snapped shut. 

Jashin’s Angel might be an excellent tactician – but his decades of experience gave him an edge. Kakuzu had fought more battles and won more wars in his long life than these fanatical agitators could ever dream of, and the art of war had not changed. Lure the enemy in with guards as bait, lull them with a false sense of security, and once they are at a point of no return, close the doors behind them. 

As his men apprehended Hidan, one of his lieutenants rushed in to report on the statement of affairs. 

“The rebels are dead, your highness, but so are most of our men. And – ,” he hesitated, clearly not wanting to deliver this particular piece of information, “the explosion was a decoy, your grace. Their general, their gunpowder specialist, they all got away.” 

The leader of the revolution laughed upon hearing the news, exhilarated despite being forced to kneel, immobilised by two guards. 

“Did you really think Konan would storm a castle without a backup plan?”

This caused Kakuzu to focus his growing anger on his captive. He might have planned for the attack to happen, but he had to admit that he lost far more men than he had anticipated. Like the stab of a sharpened blade, the revolutionaries had moved more swiftly, caused more damage and came further than he had predicted and had soaked the walls of his castle with blood. And he had especially not expected to lose one of his hearts to the assassination attempt of a farmer’s boy. 

He let all of his fury bleed into his hand, grasped Hidan’s throat and squeezed. 

“We’ll find them. I will personally oversee your interrogation and I can assure you that in a matter of days, you’ll be begging me to betray your friends.”

Although he had little room to move, Hidan still raised his chin in defiance.

“I’m looking forward to seeing you try.”

Kakuzu growled, shoving the man away from him and into the arms of his guards, who shackled him. The herald’s eyes sparkled with rage, joy, and madness as he was dragged away. 

“You WILL be reaped, heathen! I will sacrifice you in the name of Jashin, and he will punish you for your sins!”

“I’m looking forward to seeing you try,” Kakuzu echoed, voice too low for anyone to hear. 

**Author's Note:**

> Will they hate fuck?  
> Are Konan and Deidara going to bust Hidan out?  
> Is Kakuzu actually Snow White’s evil stepmother? 
> 
> Who’s to say? ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Feel free to hit me up on tumblr (kakuzuisabigidiotwholoveshidan) to ask about background infos or share your theories or just to chat about these two idiots! Or just scream at me in the comments!


End file.
